


Man's Petty Nations

by Husaria



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Russo-Japanese War, depictions of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Husaria/pseuds/Husaria
Summary: In late 19th century France, Yuuri Katsuki finds himself enchanted by a fellow student in his philosophy class as turn of the century geopolitics brew in the future.Written for Issue 1 of the Yuri on Ice Lit Mag.





	Man's Petty Nations

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so happy to finally be able to publish this! :) This was so fun to work on.

Soft sunlight filtered through the windows of the classroom. Yuuri hung his coat on the back of his chair, taking notes as Cialdini spoke about the thoughts of military philosophers from decades and centuries ago. 

Not that most students cared. Many flipped quills, doodled on their notes, or gazed with glassy eyes out of the windows. Today was the first warm day of the year, and most students would rather be outside on the grass instead of a stuffy classroom. The only thing worse than a stuffy classroom was the first beautiful day of spring stuck inside a philosophy of war class. 

Yuuri never understood the grumblings of his other classmates. His classmates enjoyed learning about weapons and military tactics, but anything involving reading old books drove them to sleep. 

“I know you’re all excited to go outside,” said Cialdini, “but if someone can answer just _one_ question, then I’ll let you out early.” 

The class suddenly snapped out of whatever trance the weather caused and leaned forward. 

“What is the meaning of war?” 

The class groaned. What a vague awful, question to ask. 

Yuuri became excited. A number of the books he read went over this extensively. If he could just take one quote in particular and say… 

A hand shot up. 

“Nikiforov?” 

_“War is nothing but a continuation of politics with the admixture of other means.”_

“ _On War_ , Carl von Clausewitz,” said Cialdini, leaning against his desk. “That would be an appropriate definition in this respect. Any particular reason for that quote in particular?” 

“I believe that war is a tool that politicians use when negotiations have failed,” said Nikiforov confidently. 

“Does anyone else have a rebuttal to Nikiforov?” 

Yuuri’s hand shot up. 

“Katsuki.” 

The class groaned. They would not be getting out early. Cialdini looked excited at the possibility of a philosophical debate. 

“I have another quote about war.” 

“Please share.” 

_“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting.”_

Cialdini’s eyes furrowed. “Is that from Sun Tzu? I haven’t heard anyone mention that name in quite a while in this class. 

“Yes, _The Art of War_.” 

“Interesting. And how does that tie into my question? 

Nikiforov raised his hand. 

“Yes, Nikiforov?” 

“Isn’t Sun Tzu rather vague because his writings can apply to many different scenarios, not only war?” 

“Yes, that _is_ true,” said Cialdini. “You can say that Clausewitz is more detailed and precise about the scenarios he described.” 

“And thus, his work is more suited for the study of war.” 

Yuuri’s hand shot up. 

“Katsuki.” 

“But Sun Tzu’s writing have been major influences in Japanese military philosophy for centuries. You can apply his writings to many subjects, but he’s just as suited for war as Clausewitz.” 

Nikiforov raised his hand. 

“Nikiforov.” 

“Clausewitz wrote _On War_ based on his experiences in the Napoleonic War. 

“But it was Sun Tzu’s methods that _inspired_ von Clausewitz’s writing.” 

“An excellent discussion from both of you,” Cialdini but we’ve run out of time. We’ll have to hold a discussion on the differences between Eastern and Western philosophers at a later date. Go outside and enjoy the day, all of you.” 

Yuuri placed his notes into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Katsuki.” 

Nikiforov walked up beside him, a smile on his face. He held out his hand. “Victor Nikiforov.” 

Yuuri shook his hand. “Yuuri Katsuki.” 

“Sun Tzu,” said Nikiforov. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that name mentioned in a philosophy class.” 

“Him? My father made me memorize his book when I was thirteen.” 

“That _whole_ book?” said Nikiforov, incredulously. “Well, I shouldn’t be complaining. I had to memorize chapters of Clausewitz.” 

“That sounds dreadful. His writing is just as bad.” 

They stepped outside of the building and into spring. New students conducted exercises and stretches on the lawn while others walked between classes. A few lucky, free souls laid down on the grass, enjoying the weather. The entire courtyard was surrounded by the Maison Royale de Saint-Louis, a palace complex large enough itself but dwarfed by Versailles the next town over. 

“That discussion provided some excitement to that class. It’s normally mind-numbingly boring.” 

“I don’t think it’s _that_ boring. I find it insightful.” 

“I think you’re the only person who ever talks in that class.” 

“But you spoke up today.” 

Victor chuckled. “I wanted to get out of class earlier. I didn’t expect you to debate me.” 

“I had some words to say.” Yuuri smiled; Victor’s good mood was infectious. 

“You sound like you have some more words.” 

“I may.” 

“It’s settled then. Are you free this afternoon?” said Nikiforov. 

“Yes, I don’t think I have any other classes.” 

“Well, the weather is beautiful. Would you like to go to a café in town? It’d be delightful to sit outside.” 

“I’ll take you up on that offer.” 

They found a packed café not that far from the school grounds. After ordering, Nikiforov took a long swing of his cigarette and exhaled a line of smoke. With the way he delicately crossed one leg over the other and how he held his cigarette, he looked out of place in this small town. He belonged in some café or outside a dance club in Paris. 

“So…you’re from Japan?” Nikiforov asked, brushing some hair out of his eyes. “I don’t recall seeing many Japanese students. I thought you were all educated in the country.” 

“Most are,” said Yuuri. “My family thought that it would be better for me if I left Japan. I also, hah, _really_ needed to brush up on my French.” 

“I find your French to be impeccable.” 

Yuuri sputtered into his coffee and coughed until his eyes watered. “Th-Thank you.” 

“Are you alright?” 

“I just…” Yuuri coughed. “Swallowed some coffee the wrong way. I’m fine now.” 

“Good. You had me worried about a second.” 

“But my French…” 

“You hardly have an accent.” 

“It was much worse when I first arrived. None of the other Europeans could understand me.” 

“When did you move to France?” 

Yuuri thought. “I started almost two years ago. My tutor taught me the language, and he told my father that going to France would do wonders for my French.” 

“It clearly has. In my opinion.” 

“What about you?” said Yuuri. “You’re Russian, and you’ve only arrived this year, I think?” 

“Ah,” said Victor, smiling. “My mother is French, and we used to visit her family once a year.” 

“Really? In Paris or…?” 

“The South of France, close to the border with Switzerland. It’s a beautiful country. Have you ever been?” 

  
“The South of France? N-No…” To tell the truth, Yuuri had not done much travel in Europe outside of central France. He became anxious at the thought of neglecting his studies for one or two weeks while traveling throughout the continent. If he traveled during the summer, he felt guilty for not visiting his parents during that time. 

“I _have_ gone to Prague,” Yuuri blurted out. 

“Prague!” said Nikiforov. “What a wonderful city. I’ve been there only once. Reminds me very much of Vienna in certain respects.” 

“I’d like to go again.” Prague did not remind him much of anything because truthfully, Yuuri remembered little of it. “My good friend Phichit is at the Prussian academy in Berlin, and I’d like to visit him.” 

“You _must_ visit the South of France,” said Nikiforov. “Are you free during the summer? I’d love to take you to my family’s house.” 

“I’m…not sure,” said Yuuri uncertainly. “I might have some family matters to attend to back in Japan.” 

“That’s understandable. Just let me know if you can. It’s _beautiful_ during the fall.” 

Nikiforov smoked more of his cigarette, and Yuuri finished off his coffee. 

“This was nice.” 

“Yes, feel free to call on me whenever you have time.” 

That night before Yuuri went to bed, he hastily wrote a letter to his parents asking if he could stay in France for the summer. 

Next philosophy of war class, Yuuri sat in the desk next to Nikiforov. 

“Oh hello.” Victor grinned. “Have we met before?” 

“I believe we have.” 

“Now if you all would please take out your copies of _The Prince_ …” 

*** 

“Katsuki!” 

Nikiforov waved at him from across the lawn. 

“ _Bonjour_ , Nikiforov.” 

“Did you ask your parents if you could stay over the summer?” 

“Well, ahh, I did, but it takes a little while for a letter to get to Japan.” 

Nikiforov blinked sheepishly. “O-Of course, how could I forget? How long does it take for a letter to reach Japan?” 

“Close to two months?” 

“Two _months_!” Nikiforov exclaimed. “I apologize for asking you on such a short notice, I had no idea—” 

“It’s fine,” said Yuuri. “Please don’t worry about it.” 

“Oh! I got a response from _my_ family. You _can_ stay with us during the summer if you wish.” 

“And I’d love to join you.” 

“Just tell me if you can. I’d love to host you.” 

A few months later, and sleep-deprived from studying for his final exam, Yuuri finally received a letter from his parents. 

“Nikiforov?” 

He found Nikiforov laying down on the lawn, surrounded by books and papers. He had picked up a copy of _The Prince_ and vigorously taking notes in the margins. 

“Nikiforov!” 

“Katsuki, hello!” Nikiforov sat up, and he had the same bags under his eyes as Yuuri. “Machiavelli _really_ enjoyed fear instead of love, didn’t he?” 

Yuuri grimaced. “You’re reading _The Prince_.” 

“I do not like this book. Far too pessimistic for my taste.” He put a silk bookmark on the page and closed it. He looked up at Yuuri and smiled. “How’s exam season been for you?” 

“I’ve gotten five hours of sleep over the past two days.” 

“I’ve gotten six.” 

“Lucky. Anyway, I have good news!” Yuuri held out the envelope. “I received a reply from my parents. They’re alright with me staying with you this summer.” 

Nikiforov’s sleepy eyes brightened. “Really?!” he exclaimed. “Katsuki, that’s wonderful! I must make arrangements at once. This is far more exciting than Machiavelli. Oh, tell your parents thank you from me! What’s ‘thank you’ in Japanese?” 

_“Arigato.”_

“Tell them that from me!” said Nikiforov. “This is going to be an amazing summer, I can just feel it!” 

“I will!” said Yuuri. “I’ll tell them that Nikiforov says thank you.” 

“Nikiforov.” He narrowed his eyes, displeased at how his name sounded. 

“Ni…ki…?” 

“I think you can call me Victor now.” 

After a harrowing exam season, both of them passed all of their classes with flying colors: Victor was the top of the class while Yuuri was in the top 5%. Both of them packed up suitcases and boarded a train from Paris to Nice. 

“Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one!” Victor slid open the luxury compartment. Soft curtains decorated the windows and the seats were plushy and velvet. A card table stood in the center of the room. 

“I-Isn’t the train ride only three hours?” Yuuri said. 

“Yes, but it gets awfully hot in the South of France in June. We might as well travel in style.” 

Outside the windows, the landscape transitioned from the apartments and boulevards of Paris to the farms and towns of the French countryside. 

“I’m not sure if I told you this, but my parents should already be at the house.” Victor crossed his legs. “They’re only staying for July.” 

“Only a month?” Yuuri asked. 

“Yes. And as I’ve told you, I don’t have any siblings. We’ll have all of August to ourselves.” 

An entire month alone with Victor. 

“All of August to ourselves,” said Yuuri. 

A steward entered the carriage and A distant look came to Victor’s eyes, and he pulled out a notebook from his bag, jotting words down at every few intervals. 

Curiosity got the best of Yuuri. “We _just_ finished our finals.” 

Victor blinked. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

He must’ve been so lost in his writing that he missed Yuuri’s words. “I said, we just finished our finals.” 

“Just finished…?” Victor blinked a few times. “What are you talking about?” 

“You’re writing something down.” 

“Ah, this!” He closed the book. “I do a small bit of writing every now and then. Just some fiction and occasionally poems.” 

“You’re a writer?” 

Victor chuckled. “I wish. It’d be nice to be one. You can read it if you want.” He held out the notebook for him. 

“R-Really?” said Yuuri. He would have thought writing was something personal. 

Victor smiled. “Go ahead.” 

Yuuri opened the notebook. 

“It’s…It’s all in Russian.” 

  


The thin white curtains fluttered slowly from a northern wind. At the correct moment, one could catch a glimpse of the grassy fields and the sea beyond. The weather had only gotten hotter since their arrival. Victor’s parents received Yuuri very well; his mother even complimented his French. 

But now it was just the two of them. His father had to return to Russia; some meeting with the nobles or other members of the Army or such. As much room as both of them had to roam, Victor had gotten increasingly restless. He reminded Yuuri of a tiger trapped in a too small cage. 

“We need to go to the cliffs!” 

Yuuri looked up from the newspaper. “I’m sorry?” 

Victor shot up from the lounge chair, a bottle of red wine in his hand. “We’re going to go to the cliffs nearby. They’re gorgeous and I’ve never taken you to them. Come.” 

He staggered over to Yuuri and pulled him out of the chair. “How are we getting—” 

“We need to saddle the horses!” 

The dusty road outside of the manor turned into a winding path between the hills and took them on a stretch of beach, their horses kicking up sand behind them. Ahead stood a series of jagged, white cliffs, covered in small trees and grass. The cliffs formed a half-moon shaped against the water. Waves crashed against the cliffs. Seagulls flocked and squawked above the glittering Mediterranean. A few boats sailed on the horizon. 

After climbing up on the Yuuri slowed his horse to a halt and scratched behind her ears. 

Victor got down from his horse and stumbled backwards, causing his horse to whinny nervously. 

“Careful!” Yuuri exclaimed. 

“I’m fine.” Victor reached into the saddlebags and pulled out the same bottle of wine from earlier. 

He sat down a few ways from the horses, his legs dangling off the edge of the cliff. 

Yuuri walked to the edge of the cliff and gulped; the water was easily hundreds of feet below them. 

“Come on.” Victor patted the ground next to him. “It’s not that bad.” 

The wind gently caressed their hair and Yuuri inhaled the fresh scent of seawater. They shared a few sips of the wine. 

“A part of me wants to stop attending classes.” 

Yuuri whipped his head around to face Victor. “Wh-?” 

“Not _really_!” said Victor, putting his hands up. “I mean, I _love_ learning tactics and such…” 

That came out of nowhere. “So…why do you want to leave?” 

“I know I _can’t_.” Victor opened the bottle of wine and drank a sip. “But it’d be nice to just. Stay here forever. Maybe I can write. Like Chekov or Pushkin.” 

“You…want to write literature? For a living?” 

“I think it’d be a good lifestyle. Maybe move permanently to Paris or Vienna. Leaning towards Vienna.” 

“Have you…written anything?” Yuuri asked. 

“Not in particular. Machiavelli has a habit of sapping any creativity of mine.” Victor leaned back, resting against the white rock. “But I feel… _something_ whenever I read fiction.” 

“When was the last time you read fiction?” 

“A while ago.” He turned his head toward Yuuri. “And what about you? Are _you_ happy? What would you have _wanted_ to do if you didn’t go to this school?” 

“What _I_ wanted…?” 

He had simply assumed that was a given. His father served in the Imperial Army, and he assumed that he would growing up. 

“I suppose…I really enjoy cooking.” 

“Cooking, _you_?” said Victor. “Why haven’t you said so! You _must_ make food back at the house. What’s your specialty?” 

“Japanese.” 

“I haven’t eaten much Japanese food. Lots of fish, correct?” 

“Yes, but my favorite dish is actually a pork one. It’s called katsudon.” 

“We need to buy pork after this!” demanded Victor. “I must try this katsu.” 

“Then, I will make it for you!” 

Victor sat up, a pensive expression on his face. “Still, I think Vienna would be a more excellent choice. Do you agree?” 

The waves crashed below Yuuri. “You know I’ve never been to Vienna.” 

“I know…Do you think you could join me?” 

“In Vienna? Maybe someday. What would we do?” 

“ _I_ would write stories. And _you_ can be a chef to the Habsburgs.” 

Yuuri laughed. “I don’t speak a word of German.” 

Victor put a hand on Yuuri’s cheek and kissed him softly. 

“V-Victor!” 

Victor put a hand over his mouth, his face turning red. “I-I don’t know what overcame me! I apologize, I never meant to—” 

“Th-that was—” The last time Yuuri had kissed anyone was several years ago, on a dare of all things. 

“Have you—” 

“I don’t—” 

“I…I just…I don’t know why I assumed.” 

“Assumed what…?” 

“That you were…like me, I suppose.” 

“Like you?” 

“Are you?” 

Yuuri kept his mouth shut. Like Victor? What did that even mean? 

“I don’t…know…? You’re a dear friend, Victor. Truly.” 

“I feel the same.” 

Yuuri felt Victor’s hot breath on his cheek. But this time, Yuuri closed the gap between them. 

The first time was so quick, so sudden. This time Yuuri felt Victor’s soft lips, the taste of red wine, and the faintest hint of sea salt. 

Their lips lingered for a few seconds before breaking apart. 

“You _do_ feel the same?” said Victor. 

“I-I think I do.” 

Yuuri breathed out haltingly. 

Victor scooted up the rock and rolled onto his stomach. “Don’t forget, we need to get pork for the katsudon!” 

Yuuri promptly staggered toward his horse and slumped to the ground. 

“Yuuri!” 

“The ground is soft.” 

  


The sun had set over their summer together, and both of them took the train back to Paris to head back to school. Victor and Yuuri had exchanged kisses in their empty compartment. Classes were harder; they were seemingly surrounded by classmates everywhere and had little opportunity for alone time. Victor had even secretly managed to sublet a furnished flat in the town. 

Yuuri had received even better news from his instructors. As long as he had passed all of his classes, he would graduate this year! With honors! It _would_ mean that he would be returning to Japan at the end of this year, but that also meant that he could have _months_ to travel around…if the Army approved. 

“Victor!” exclaimed Yuuri. 

Yuuri burst into their apartment. Victor had a blank expression on his face and a glass of wine in one hand. 

“After my graduation, I was thinking of doing a tour of Europe before going back to Japan,” said Yuuri. “We can start with London and then work our way to Paris, Amsterdam, Zurich—” 

Victor put down the wine glass on the stand next to the sofa. “Yuuri.” 

“I’m _sure_ that the army would understand if I wanted to delay my recruitment for a little while. I wonder if it would be quicker taking the trans-Siberian railroad.” 

_“Yuuri.”_

__

Yuuri faltered. Victor’s expression did not change a bit from when he first entered the room. Indeed, Victor’s expression had hardened. 

Yuuri’s smile faded. “Is everything alright? Are your parents well?” 

“I…” Victor’s eyes welled with tears. 

“Victor! What’s wrong?!” 

“I…received a letter from the Army.” 

He took out an envelope from his back pocket. The broken wax seal held the Russian imperial coat of arms. 

“It appears that my exchange in France is at an end. I-I’m going to have to return to the Nicholas 

General Staff Academy in St. Petersburg.” 

“S-St. Petersburg—” 

“They want me in the country so that I can be called up at a moment’s notice.” 

“T-That’s so _far_!” Yuuri blurted stupidly. St. Petersburg? He had never _been_ to Russia, and it would take him almost a month to get from France to Russia…Now Yuuri’s vision became blurry with tears, and he closed his eyes so that Victor couldn’t see. 

“No…!” 

“Yuuri…” 

Eyes still shut, Victor drew him into a hug and Yuuri buried his head into his warm chest. No, no, no, not _this_ soon. They were supposed to travel and meet Phichit in Berlin and go to Vienna for the first time. 

“I don’t _want_ this.” 

Hot wet tears fell on Yuuri’s head. “I’m so _so_ sorry, Yuuri. I _never_ wanted this to happen so soon.” 

“C-Can you appeal? Or have your father talk to them or _something_ —” 

“You know how badly my father wants me to move back to Russia. I-I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I’m doing this to you.” 

“I-I don’t want you to go....We can’t end this.” Yuuri pulled away to look up at Victor’s red face. “You must write me. Or send a telegram to me.” 

Victor chuckled. “A letter from Russia to Japan should take a shorter time than one from France to Japan.” 

Yuuri burst into tears. 

“Yuuri, I’m sorry.” 

“Wh-When are you leaving?” 

“The end of the month.” 

“The end of the…?” That was only two weeks away. “And then…we’ll never see each other again.” 

“Don’t talk like that!” Victor pulled away slightly. “We can meet in Berlin when we’re both off. Or Vienna! That’s halfway. We’ve always talked about Vienna.” 

“Vienna s-sounds wonderful,” said Yuuri. 

“We’ll get through this, my love,” said Victor, holding Yuuri’s face. “I _know_ we will.” 

*** 

So, once again, just as he did it for his parents, Yuuri sat at his desk and began to write. 

_Dear Victor,_

__

_I hope you receive this letter by the time you arrive and I sent it to the right address. I hope it finds you well._

__

_The school isn’t the same without you here. I doze off in class more than ever. Even Cialdini has wondered what was wrong with me._

__

_Victor, I miss you. A lot. I can’t help but think of us living in a fabulous city like Berlin or Vienna when all of this is over._

__

_Yours truly,_

_Yuuri_

_My dear Yuuri,_

_The keeper of my heart! I miss you so._

_A cousin of mine has joined the school as well. His name is Yuri, just like you! And that’s where the similarities end. He is one of the most intense pupils the school has ever seen, and all of my teachers have high hopes for him. Yakov naturally adores him._

__

_In other news, we might be closer to each other than ever before! I’m going to be taking a brief tour of Poland during my summer break! Will you be going back to Japan? Perhaps we can visit, depending on my schedule?_

__

_I miss you dearly. Have I mentioned that already?_

__

_Yours truly,_

_Victor_

__

_Mother and Father FULL STOP Would it be possible to make arrangements to visit Victor in Poland this summer FULL STOP Your son FULL STOP_

__

_It would be dangerous for you to visit Russia FULL STOP Telegrams are expensive FULL STOP Please don’t send anymore FULL STOP_

__

__

_Dear Victor,_

__

_In my excitement, I sent a telegram to my parents. They told me that it’s unsafe to visit Russia at the moment. I know that there have been tensions between our countries as of late, but this seems unnecessary._

__

_Speaking of our countries, I’m graduating this year and I’m enlisting in the army as soon as I graduate. This means I’ll be going back to Japan after the summer. Perhaps we can meet somewhere halfway in Russia one day. For the first time, I’m excited to be out of France. My only regret is that I never had a chance to visit Vienna._

__

_I miss you. Let’s visit soon._

__

_Yours truly,_

_Yuuri_

__

__

_Dear Yuuri,_

__

_I am so happy that you are graduating! I will send you a gift when I can._

__

_Your parents so have little knowledge about what Russia is like! I understand that politics are out of our control, but you have nothing to fear in Russia. I’m chuckling at their ignorance._

__

_At any rate, I am graduating as well, and I may be doing a quick tour of Europe before I return to the country and they place me wherever. Would it be possible for you to stay in Europe for a little bit longer throughout the summer, and we can go to Vienna?_

__

_I wish you can be in St. Petersburg during the holiday season. It’s truly a lovely time._

__

_I can’t wait to see you soon._

__

_Yours truly,_

_Victor_

__

__

_Dear Victor,_

__

_It’s fascinating how my parents are ignorant about Russia, and yet no one at this school had no idea about Sun Tzu. There is much that Europe needs to learn as well!_

__

_Yes, I thought I told you this, but I plan on taking a tour of the continent as well before returning to Japan. I don’t know if I can make it to Moscow or St. Petersburg but I can visit Warsaw. What my parents won’t know, won’t hurt them. I miss you so much. I’ve already made arrangements to visit Vienna in mid-July. Would you like to come?_

__

_Yours truly,_

_Yuuri_

__

__

_Dear Yuuri,_

__

_As I said (you might remember), Sun Tzu’s teachings are quite broad and can be applied to many situations._

__

_I’m afraid that a grand European vacation is out of the question for me this summer. I’ve been placed in Kamchatka in the East for my first tour. It seems that there’s no way I can visit Europe. I’m so sorry. I’m trying to see if I have time in my schedule to see you sometime next year. Kamchatka is closer to Japan than Europe, right?_

__

_I’m so sorry, my heart._

__

_Yours truly,_

_Victor_

__

__

_Dear Victor,_

__

_While I’m disappointed, it wasn’t totally unexpected. I still don’t know if I have permission or not from my superiors if I can take the summer off._

__

_In happier news, I’m visiting Phichit in Berlin for a week-long holiday! I don’t think you’ve met him let but I think you’d like him. We all should meet sometime_

__

_I’ll inform you of my superiors’ decision, it should be coming in the next few weeks I hope._

__

_Yours truly,_

_Yuuri_

__

_They said no FULL STOP_

__

__

_Dear Victor,_

__

_I’m not sure if you got my telegram or my last letter, but they rejected my request for a vacation. We’ll be closer in Japan than Europe, if anything else._

__

_Visiting Phichit was fun. I wish you were there. Berlin is such a lovely city._

__

_Yours truly,_

_Yuuri_

__

__

_Dear Victor,_

__

_I just realized that you never sent me your Kamchatka address. That’s probably why you haven’t received any of my letters. I’ve attached my Japan address to this letter. Maybe if your parents get this letter, they’ll forward it to you? I really don’t want to lose contact with you._

__

_I’m sorry my letters have gotten so short. I’m in the process of moving. I hope this finds you well._

__

_I love you._

__

_Yours truly,_

_Yuuri_

__

  


His stallion’s hooves sank in the mud along the riverbank. The last of the men had crossed the makeshift bridge. A few infantry soldiers marched with them as well, one carrying the banner of the imperial flag. 

“General, when…?” 

“Shh,” Yuuri hissed. “Have patience.” The troops had been advancing across the river for the past two nights and became restless once they heard of enemy movements. 

The entire formation’s movements ceased. Silence fell upon the river valley. The only thing standing between them and the Russians was a thick, soupy fog slithering between the early morning darkness. 

_“FIRE!”_

__

The howitzers blasted to life from the island behind them, briefly illuminating Yuuri’s vision with the lights from the cannons. 

Shrieks sounded across the fog. 

Yuuri dug his heels into his horse and unsheathed his sword. 

_“CHARGE!”_

__

Yuuri galloped into the fray, the horses’ hooves and men’s boots kicking up mud, splattering on his horse’s red coat and the legs of his pants. 

Yuuri’s division crashed into the Russian Eastern Detachment. Men fell with the _bang_ of their rifles, horses screamed, the only light from the howitzers. Horses shrieked and skidded and fell into the mud. 

_They’re not retreating._

The ground shook like an earthquake; the early morning sun peeked out from the horizon. Another division of imperial troops came, shouting, catching the Russian detachment by surprise. 

Ahead of him, a man’s horse screamed and toppled over in the mud. The force of the fall threw the man several feet away, one of his legs bent in an unnatural shape. 

Yuuri slowed his horse to a trot and dismounted, pulling out a pistol from one of the saddle bags. With the man’s leg like that it would be a mercy. He deserved to at least look upon another man’s face before— 

Dust and mud caked his dark blue clothes to the point where Yuuri could not tell what rank he held. His hair, likewise, was covered in mud, but Yuuri made out the faintest of blond hair. 

Groaning, the man rolled over onto his back. 

Yuuri wished that the man had been anyone else in the world. 

“Yuuri…” 

He froze, as though his own two feet had stuck to the mud. The hand holding the pistol trembled. 

“Yuuri…please…” 

A second hand came up to hold the pistol. 

“I-I…” 

Yuuri put his finger on the trigger. 

*** 

The whole world had changed in a matter of a few years. The entire map of Central and Eastern shifted; the ancient monarchies were gone. The Habsburgs, Yuuri thought, looking in the direction of the now-empty imperial apartments, were lucky. At least they were removed peacefully. On the other hand, the Romanovs were murdered. Yuuri sat at a table outside, watching families pushing prams and the trams passing him by on the street. He couldn’t shake the feel that he was being watched. 

_“Ich möchte eine Eiskaffee, bitte, und eine französische Zeitung,”_ he said. His German was still as nowhere near as good as his France, but he had been practicing the past few months. He hoped it would be enough. __

And it was. The waiter came back with his iced coffee and a French-language newspaper. 

_“Danke.”_

A slight wind ruffled Yuuri’s hair. It had been years since he had been able to relax during the summer. But today his muscles unclenched, he breathed in deeply, and he felt like smoking a cigarette. 

Across the sea of tables a man with platinum blond hair sat alone. A cane rested against his table; he held a small book in his hand with a small cup of coffee on his table. He elegantly folded one leg over the other, and he smoked a cigarette. 

He looked up at Yuuri, and Yuuri looked back. 

Yuuri collected his newspaper, picked up his coffee, and walked over to him. 


End file.
